New graduate undeterred by spina bifida

Although Courtney Giarrusso has been virtually immobile since birth, she has worked hard for the past four years to ensure that other people's lives move forward. Born with a spinal defect that left her paralyzed from the shoulders down, Giarrusso, 31, is incapable of even the smallest movement. On a recent afternoon in her Algiers home, tightness in her hands meant she had to struggle to operate the mouse for her computer when she didn't feel like using the voice commands. And when she wanted to shift just a few inches to the right on her specially equipped bed, her mother, Civil District Judge Robin Giarrusso, had to tug on the sheet on which her daughter sat.

View full sizeSusan Poag,The Times-PicayuneOrleans Parish Civil District Court Judge Robin M. Giarrusso helps set up a computer for her daughter Courtney to use. Courtney Giarrusso, who has spina bifida, uses voice-recognition technology and a mouse with a ball to work.

Despite what may seem like overwhelming odds, Giarrusso has been working toward a master's degree in mental health counseling at Our Lady of Holy Cross College with a combination of persistence and optimism that has impressed her teachers.

"I don't know how I would have the upbeat attitude," said Joan Fischer, director of the college's Thomas E. Chambers Counseling and Training Center. "I don't know how I would keep going, but she does."

Throughout Giarrusso's time in the postgraduate counseling program, Giarrusso "has been one of the top students," said Carolyn White, the program's director. "She finished the comprehensive exam in half the time allowed, and she got one of the highest scores in the department."

Today, riding in a shiny black high-tech wheelchair, Giarrusso will graduate with her class.

"My mom's going to help me get it up on the stage, and I want to drive it across," she said.

That declaration is typical of the determination with which Giarrusso has pursued her goal. It also is indicative of her partnership with her mother, who has been her chauffeur, note taker and frequent typist, as well as her assistant on taking tests.

Judge keeps busy schedule

Even though Robin Giarrusso is a full-time judge, she has juggled her schedule to accommodate her daughter's needs. After the judge spent the day hearing cases, with a midday trip to pick up her daughter and take her home before returning to court, the two would head to a 7 p.m. class.

"Fortunately, the counseling classes are mostly at night," Judge Giarrusso said, "so if you don't like to sleep, it's relatively easy."

When a friend asked the judge how she managed all her responsibilities, she said this was her reply: "You don't think about it. You just do it."

The two have become an established team on the Algiers campus, so much so that Judge Giarrusso, who had considered majoring in psychology as an undergraduate, was encouraged to enroll with her daughter.

"I wasn't quite ready to do that," she said, "but I've always teased that I'd like them to let me take the national exam (for certifying counselors) to see if I'd pass it."

"I probably could," she added with a chuckle.

Judge Giarrusso is part of a group of caregivers who bathe and dress her daughter every day and help her move around.

At school, Fischer said, "it would be easy to sit back and let Robin do it, but Courtney would say, 'I've got it under control.' I don't mean to say she was rude, but she was in control of her own business."

A cheerful room

Mother and daughter were sitting in Courtney's room. It is a bright, cheerful place: Einstein, the family dog, wandered in and out, wagging his tail, and framed posters for the movies "Dirty Dancing" and "Grease" adorned pink walls. Propped up on pillows, Courtney presided over the room from her bed, which has an air mattress attached to a pump that makes a continuous whooshing sound as it redistributes pressure to lower the risk of bedsores.

Courtney's father, Joseph Giarrusso Jr., son of the former New Orleans City Council member and police superintendent, is the backup caregiver who springs into action when his wife isn't around. "He's really supportive," Courtney said. "He's the one who makes us laugh."

She also has a brother, Joseph Giarrusso III, who is married with a family of his own.

Courtney Giarrusso was born with spina bifida, a congenital defect of the spinal column that has required a series of operations. Because of her condition, she cannot sit for more than four or five hours at a time, but she managed to work around that in three counseling internships she held.

While Giarrusso definitely has limitations, "she looks at what she can do versus what she cannot do," said Roy Salgado, an associate professor of counseling and behavioral sciences.

From childhood, she said, she wanted to be in a profession that helped other people, but she ruled out teaching and nursing because they were too strenuous.

"I knew I wanted to do something where I could talk to people all day long," she said, "so (counseling) seemed very feasible."

No one knew how profoundly disabled Giarrusso was until she arrived on campus with her mother for an interview to decide whether she should be admitted.

At first, Giarrusso said, people at the college weren't sure how to deal with her. When one professor wanted to read test questions to her, she replied quickly, "I can read."

Working with children wasn't an option, Salgado said, because Giarrusso couldn't get down on the floor and use toys to put tiny clients at ease.

"She didn't let that hold her back," he said. "She was still able to partake in the therapeutic process by guiding her clients and observing what they were doing to compensate, very effectively, for things that she couldn't do with her hands."

Next: Job hunt

Courtney Giarrusso hasn't started sending out job applications and résumés because, she said, she doesn't know what type of counseling work she wants to do and is still trying to get used to the fact that the 12 years spent in college and graduate school have come to an end.

"It doesn't seem real yet," she said. "I guess it'll seem real on graduation day when I see some people crying."

When Giarrusso applies for jobs, she said she won't make an issue of her disability, even though she conceded that she will a need a full-time aide and will be able to work only four or five hours each day.

But, she said, the fact of her disability will "absolutely" make her more likely to empathize with whatever difficulties her clients might have endured.

When such situations arise, Giarrusso said, "I'll just tell them that I know they've been through a lot and that I've been through the same things."